


Two Can Play

by dovahkn (lilypond)



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, F/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 04:34:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5898454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilypond/pseuds/dovahkn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Hancock has a great sense of smell, and Wren smells absolutely delicious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Can Play

One of the hardest things Hancock had to get used to about becoming a ghoul, other than the dirty looks and insults, was the change in his senses. Some things were worse, of course, like the dulled sensation on the more heavily scarred parts of his skin. Worst of all was the sudden resistance to chems—a pleasant buzz that used to take one hit of jet to reach could take two full inhalers now. That kind of shit got expensive.

But other things were better, like his sight, his strength...his sense of smell.

God, his sense of smell. Some of it, he assumed, was from losing the part of his nose that used to filter fainter smells out. But there was more to it than that. Now he could smell things even the sharpest human noses couldn't—a radstorm coming two hours away, whether a deathclaw or radstag had recently passed through an area, even delicate changes in body chemistry and pheromones. He could tell when a human was pregnant a day or two after it happened. He could smell fear, anger, happiness...

 _Arousal._ That one was both a curse and a blessing. Some people's arousal smelled terrible—more than once it had ruined otherwise perfectly good hookups, and damn was it ever awkward trying to explain to someone that the reason you'd suddenly stopped flirting with them was because they didn't _smell_ right. But when someone smelled good, they smelled _amazing_.

Wren smelled downright intoxicating.

He didn't find that out at first, of course. When he first met her, she smelled of nothing more than fear and blood. His gut reaction to the scent of her fear was weird enough, setting off all the protective instincts he wasn't even aware he had.

The first time Hancock had gotten a whiff of what she smelled like when she was turned on, they'd been traveling together for two weeks. He'd run out of ammunition for his shotgun mid-fight and switched to his knife. He was just as skilled with it as he was with his gun, if not more, but it was pretty damn inconvenient having to get into melee range of their enemies to use it.

Once the battle was over and he was catching his breath, he noticed it. Faint, fading, but it was the best goddamn thing he'd ever smelled. When he turned around to stare at her, she wasn't even looking at him, busying herself with looting the Gunners they'd just— _heh—_ gunned down. He had assumed at the time it was the adrenaline that got her blood pumping. That could happen to anyone now and then. It hadn't even occurred to him that it could have anything to do with _him._

Until it happened again, a few days later when he decided to pull out the knife just because he'd had fun with it before and realized he missed using it. When he finished off the last raider, he'd smelled it again, and when he turned around she was staring right at him. It had taken every ounce of willpower he had not to rush over to her, press his face to her neck and just breathe her in.

Then it started happening during conversations. He'd make a risque joke or two, and there it was. He'd lean in a little too close, whisper something in her ear while they were sneaking around downtown, and there it was again.

Sometimes he'd smell it as they were going to sleep, and he'd turn over and catch her watching him, eyes glittering in the moonlight.

At first he was just shocked. She was so perfect, so beautiful and kind and _good_ , and he couldn't imagine what she'd find attractive about him. Hell, he was lucky she even found him tolerable enough to travel with. But her scent only kept getting stronger, and it kept happening more often, and it was always connected to _him._

He couldn't keep denying it forever, especially not after the indescribable flood of arousal he smelled on her when he finally risked putting an arm around her during some friendly joking around. Once he finally accepted it, it became...fun, almost. He got a rush from it, from knowing what he did to her, despite all the odds stacked against him.

He knew he should feel bad for toying with her, but it was so _satisfying_ walking up behind her, murmuring something into her ear and smelling that burst of pheromones that was all because of him, just for _him._ The tiny, stifled whimper she made when he shed his coat and vest and laid back on the couch in nothing but his ruffled shirt and stretched his arms over his head was possibly the best sound he'd ever heard in his life. Fuck if he knew why, but she _wanted_ him, and badly.

–

He'd taken watch tonight, since they couldn't find a secure enough spot for them to sleep at the same time before it got dark. He hated these nights. Separated from her by thick walls, sitting out in the breeze—he could never smell her like this. It wasn't even only her desire for him he wanted to smell anymore. He'd become addicted to her everyday scent, the smell of just being _around_ her. It did funny things to his heart he wasn't prepared to think about too hard just yet.

But tonight was, apparently, going to be different.

Because somehow, despite everything, he could smell her even from out on the porch, and there was something... _different_ about it. He looked around carefully, eyes still sharp even in the darkness. There wasn't a sign of life in sight. When another pulse of her scent drifted down to him, he decided they'd be safe enough if he left his post for just a _little_ while.

He crept silently into the house and up the stairs, avoiding the steps that he knew would creak underfoot, and emerged onto the landing just outside the bedroom where she was supposed to be sleeping. The scent grew stronger and stronger as he approached.

He was already rock hard in his pants when he heard it—a thin, reedy moan, followed by the soft squeaking of the mattress as her weight shifted. He pressed his back to the wall next to the door and bit his lip to keep from groaning himself.

Now that he was standing still he could hear everything. Soft panting mixed with muffled moans, like she was trying her best to hold them back. Little wet sounds that must be—oh, god, he wanted more than anything to turn that corner and watch, watch her stroke over her swollen clit or slide her fingers inside herself, watch her writhe on the bed as she brought herself closer and closer to her peak.

As she took a sharp breath and let out a desperate whimper, he finally shoved his pants down, unable to take it any longer. He clapped his hand over his mouth to hold back a groan of relief as he wrapped his hand around himself.

He could smell the tang of his own precome mixing with her scent. This is what they'd smell like together. God, this is what it would smell like if he _fucked_ her.

The thought drove him wild, and he pumped himself hard and fast, almost painful. He was too impatient to be delicate or draw it out. He could hear her frantic gasps coming faster and faster, knew she was close.

“Oh, fuck,” he heard her whine. “Oh, god, please.”

His eyes fluttered shut and his head dropped back, almost thumping loudly on the wall before he caught himself. She was alternating holding her breath and panting harshly, and he knew she was only seconds away.

“Oh, oh, _please,”_ she said again. She gasped sharply, then finally—

“Oh, _Hancock,_ ” she groaned as she came. Hancock's entire body tensed as he was practically dragged over the edge with her, biting his lip until it bled to stop himself from crying out her name in response.

He stood there, breathing shakily and listening to his heart pound in his ears, drinking in the smell of her post-orgasm satisfaction and wishing like hell he was in there to smell it up close—that he'd been the cause of it himself.

He didn't know how much longer he was going to be able to stand teasing her and dragging this out. It had been fun, but he wouldn't be able to survive another night like this.

When he opened his eyes again, he could hear her breathing had evened out in sleep already.

If he wasn't being such an ass, he could be in there with her. She could be sleeping curled up safe and warm in his arms right now.

It was time to end this stupid game.

–

The next day they reached the Slog. Wren went about her mostly self-imposed duties, checking in with everybody and fine-tuning the settlement's defenses yet again. It was one of the things he loved most about her—her affection and concern for every settler under the Minutemen's flag, her fierce protectiveness over all the innocents of the wasteland. It was the reason he'd wanted to travel with her in the first place. She was everything and more than he could ever hope to be for his people.

When he looked over at her, he could see her chatting with Holly and smiled. Holly flirted shamelessly with Wren, and Hancock knew she was hopelessly attracted to her, but he'd never smelled even a hint that Wren felt anything in return. Suddenly, Wren looked up at him sharply, narrowing her eyes.

Hancock looked around quickly, not sure what he was doing wrong. He was just helping tend the crops, and he was pretty sure she couldn't find fault with that. Maybe she'd been thinking of something else and happened to look in his direction. Maybe the sun was just in her eyes.

In any case, if he'd actually done anything wrong she'd tell him. That was another thing he loved about her—she never beat around the bush or kept shit bottled up. He always knew exactly where he stood with her.

He should really just relax.

–

Later that night, they were bedding down in an old abandoned house—this time one with intact doors with intact locks and two beds, safe enough for them to be comfortable sleeping at the same time with a few mines placed around the perimeter of the house just in case.

“So,” she said a little too casually as he cleaned his gun on the old kitchen table. “Holly told me something interesting today.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhm. She told me that ghouls have a _very_ sharp sense of smell after they change. Is that true?”

“Yeah,” he said automatically, not sure where she was going with this.

“She told me, in fact, that ghouls can smell some really specific things. Things like emotions. Little changes in body chemistry. Even, oh, say...when someone is turned on. Is that true, too?”

His hands froze. He stared down at the gun, eyes wide, mind racing. He couldn't _lie_ to her. They didn't do that to each other. But if he told her the truth—

But he'd already hesitated too long, and now she was stalking towards him. When he looked up, she was glaring down at him with fire in her eyes.

“You _asshole._ You've been doing it on purpose.”

“Doing...doing what on purpose?” He tried.

“Don't you _even_ dare.”

He swallowed hard. “I...well, see, I...”

She leaned in close. “You like it, don't you? You like that you turn me on.”

He was close enough to smell her anger—close enough to smell that she was already a little turned on, too. The combination was incredible.

“Yeah,” he said faintly.

Suddenly she was straddling him, bodies not quite touching but so, _so_ close. Her arms wrapped around his neck. “Do I turn you on, too, Hancock?”

“God, yeah,” he groaned, bringing his hands up to rest on her hips. She leaned in a little closer until they were breathing the same air.

“Do you want me?”

“Fuck, yes. _Please.”_

His eyes fluttered shut as she tilted her head and leaned closer, until he could just barely feel her lips skimming his.

“That's too bad,” she said. His eyes snapped open.

She pulled her head back and grinned down at him.

“W-what?” He spluttered.

“See, you had your fun,” she said. “You've been torturing me for _weeks._ Now I think it's my turn.”

He gripped her hips a little tighter. “But I...”

“Don't you think that's fair?”

He couldn't even answer. He'd thought—he was _so close,_ and she—

She climbed off of him, smirking. “Better finish that up and get to bed. We've got a long way to walk tomorrow.”

He stared silently as she sashayed away, putting an extra swing in her hips as she left the room.

He was _fucked._

–

From that point on, she did everything in her power to make his life miserable. She started wearing her vault suit again instead of her usual jeans and jacket, bending over as often as possible to give him a great view of her ass in the tight, form-fitting fabric. She flirted shamelessly, got herself off in the next room or up the stairs from him nearly every night, moaning his name and flooding his senses with her delicious scent while he could do nothing about it.

When he groaned and pleaded she only giggled. He could tell it was affecting her too, could smell her aroused more often than not, but she never gave in. It was all he could do some days not to slam her into the wall and kiss her silly, lift her up and rip that fucking suit off of her and...

But they both knew he wouldn't. She trusted him not to do anything she didn't ask for, and he would never. He'd die first.

Though at this rate, he really _might_ die first.

–

He'd been practicing with a sword lately for the hell of it. Sometimes it was just more fun to cut his enemies to ribbons instead of shooting them in the face, and it was a great way to let out some frustration. And after all, Wren went to a lot of trouble to get the beautiful, wicked blade from the bottom of a dangerously deep pool of water in the middle of a fucking quarry for him. It'd be a waste not to use it.

He was always covered in sweat and blood by the time he was done, though, and he grimaced at the thought of the painstaking cleaning it was going to take to get it out of his outfit. Maybe he could sweet-talk Codsworth into doing it for him again when they got back to Sanctuary.

And then he smelled her. He was so used to it by now he almost didn't look, knew it would just make the longing and hunger for her worse, but she was panting harshly and he _had_ to make sure she wasn't hurt.

When he turned around, she was staring at him with fire in her eyes. Then she was crossing the distance between them, grabbing his jacket, pulling—

And finally, _finally_ she was kissing him. He groaned weakly into her mouth, dropping the sword to bring his arms up around her waist. She didn't fuck around, delving her tongue into his mouth immediately. She tasted so good, so sweet, even better than he'd been imagining all these weeks. His brain shorted out and went pleasantly blank.

“Fuck,” she moaned as she broke the kiss. “Need you.”

“Here?” He mumbled.

She grinned wickedly, and he shuddered in anticipation. She tugged him over towards one of the desks that was still standing in the corner of the room. He'd pictured fucking her bent over a desk before, of _course_ he had, but the idea that they were really going to do this—

He moaned and pulled her close again, kissing her hard. She worked on getting his clothes off at the same time, shoving the jacket off first and working the buttons on his shirt with deft fingers. Finally she dipped her hand into his pants and wrapped it around his cock, squeezing gently. He threw his head back and hissed in pleasure.

When he looked back down, dazed, she was smirking triumphantly up at him.

Well, he could fix _that._

He had her vault suit unzipped before she could react, and then he was peeling it off of her and lifting her up onto the desk. She squirmed a little as the cold wood hit her bare skin.

He dropped to his knees between her legs and looked up at her with a grin. She stared down at him with wide eyes, obviously not expecting this turn of events.

God, she smelled even better up close like this. It was heaven. He could stay like this forever, just breathing her in, feeling her body heat close to his.

Until she whined softly, and suddenly he needed to touch her _now._

He tried to draw it out, ran his fingers teasingly up and down her inner thighs and pressed soft kisses to them as she spread her legs wide open for him, but he couldn't hold back for long. She was so wet and ready for him that he could see her glistening.

With another groan he finally dove in, dragging his tongue over her slit and relishing the loud cry she let out. Her hands came down to rest on his scalp, and for the first time in a long while he wished he still had hair so she'd have something to tug on.

He licked over her slowly, alternating tracing teasing circles around her clit and delving his tongue inside her until she was panting and tugging at the back of his head in a silent plea for more.

And who was he to deny her anything?

His hands came up to grip her ass and tugged her forward until she was just barely perched on the edge of the desk. He switched from long, lazy strokes of his tongue to quick flicks over her clit, groaning happily as her thighs tightened around his head.

“Oh, oh _god,_ Hancock,” she moaned. He looked up to find her staring down at him, mouth hanging open and eyes desperate and pleading. “Don't stop, fuck, please don't stop.”

As if he could. As if any power in the world could pry him away from her now.

Finally her legs tensed hard around him. She gasped, threw her head back, held her breath—then she was screaming out his name and whimpering as her entire body shook. He'd never heard a sweeter sound in the world. He lapped over her gently as she came down, drawing out the aftershocks until she was wriggling and oversensitive. He couldn't bring himself to pull away, instead closing his eyes and resting his head on her thigh. She stroked a trembling hand over his scalp.

“How...how do I smell now?” She panted.

“Fuckin' incredible,” he sighed. “Taste even better. Could eat you for hours.”

She laughed breathlessly. “I don't think I'd survive that.”

He hummed happily and nuzzled his face into her soft skin. He almost forgot his own swollen cock as he basked in the smell of her afterglow.

Until she caught her breath and dragged him up for a hard kiss, moaning at the taste of herself on his lips. She shoved at his pants until he pulled them down and kicked them off behind him. Then her hand was around him again, stroking slowly. He bucked his hips helplessly into her grip.

“Want you to fuck me,” she murmured.

All he could do in return was groan and nod. She pulled him closer, and he decided absently that he should get one of these desks for his office, because it was exactly the perfect height.

She slid the tip of his cock up and down her slit for a moment, teasing him until he growled in frustration. She only giggled in response.

“If you want it, take it,” she whispered.

With one last fierce kiss, he reached down to guide himself into her. She let out a shuddering moan, digging fingernails into his shoulders.

He grit his teeth. God, she was perfect on the inside too, so warm and tight and _wet_ for him. He gave her a moment to adjust, but she was already writhing against him, wriggling her hips in encouragement.

“You asked for it,” he growled. He gripped her thighs tight and eased himself out before thrusting back in hard. She tipped her head back and let out a shaky, desperate moan. He couldn't resist leaning in to bite at her exposed neck as he thrust into her, just barely retaining the presence of mind to not leave a mark, but then she had her hand behind his head and was pulling like she wanted him even closer.

“Yes, _please,”_ she whined. He growled deep in his throat and bit down harder. Her back arched, pressing her chest up against his. He let one of his hands trail up her side to cup one of her breasts, swiping his ridged thumb over her nipple and relishing the shiver he got in response.

“Fuck,” she panted. “Harder, Hancock, _please.”_

He couldn't get deep enough from this angle, couldn't go any harder than he already was. He slipped out of her. She frowned at him in confusion until he yanked her off the desk and turned her around, bending her over. She immediately got the idea and tilted her hips up invitingly.

He plunged back inside her with no preamble this time. She cried out, shoving herself back to meet him.

He fucked her hard and fast now, rough skin slapping against her soft ass. He could see her hands gripping the edge of the desk until her knuckles turned white.

God, they smelled so good together, better than he'd dreamed. It was fucking better than heaven. He never wanted it to end.

But her moans were coming higher and faster, and he was powerless to slow down as he raced for the finish line himself.

“C'mon,” she panted. “Wanna feel it. Come for me, Hancock, _god_ , fill me up.”

 _“Fuck,”_ he hissed. “Fuck, yeah, gonna give it to you. So fucking perfect for me.”

He could feel her tensing again under his hands, and he only had a moment to marvel at the fact that she was going to come on his cock alone before she was tightening around him and he couldn't think anymore. He gasped and groaned long and loud as he came harder than he'd ever come before.

She clenched rhythmically around him as she rode out her own orgasm, milking him until he almost couldn't stand it. Finally he dropped his head down to rest on her back, panting and swallowing hard, honestly just trying not to pass out. She reached back and felt around with her hand until she found his, prying it off her hip and tangling their fingers together and squeezing softly. Somehow, after everything that had just happened, _that_ was what made his heart skip a beat.

After a long few minutes of recovery, he finally pulled out of her. She whimpered at the loss before standing up as straight as she could on shaky legs and turning to face him.

Her soft hands cupped his jaw and drew him in for a slow, sweet kiss. He wrapped his arms around her again and sighed contentedly against her mouth. God, had he ever been this happy before in his entire fucking life?

They stood there trading silent kisses until he realized she was shivering as the sweat cooled on her skin.

“C'mon, sunshine, let's get you dressed before you freeze,” he murmured.

She smiled. “If you insist.”

He helped her get back into her suit, though the thin material provided very little protection from the cold. Before he could question what he was doing, he picked his own coat up off of the floor and wrapped it around her. He busied himself with putting the rest of his clothes back on so he didn't have to see her reaction.

When he finally looked back at her, her eyes were wide and wondering as she absently ran her fingers over the lapel of the jacket.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. They were silent as they retrieved their gear from the floor and picked up a few bits of choice loot from the raiders.

As they reached the door to the building, Wren stopped.

“By the way,” she said. “Can you smell love?”

Hancock nearly tripped over his own feet.

“Uh,” he said. “No?”

When he looked back at her she was grinning impishly. “Oh. Well then, you should know that I love you.”

He stared at her for a long moment in shock until the grin started to slip from her face. He finally came back to his senses and pulled her close and kissed her again.

When he pulled away, she was smiling again, looking relieved.

He smiled back. “Love you too, sunshine.”

**Author's Note:**

> (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・✧ yay smut
> 
> find me on tumblr at [dovahkn](http://dovahkn.co.vu)!!


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